


I Swear, I Say

by alexenglish



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Casual Sex, Endgame Scott McCall/Stiles Stilinski, FSA Week, Love Triangles, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-25 00:01:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4938982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexenglish/pseuds/alexenglish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theo's a good distraction, a great distraction even, but that's all he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Swear, I Say

**Author's Note:**

> All the sex is between Theo and Scott, all the love is between Stiles and Scott. I accidentally wrote a love triangle, and I'm into it. Thanks to Kat for the quick beta!
> 
> Dedicated to the Scerek Anon, who's brought together an amazing community of talented creators! Thank you so much!

The party’s well underway when Theo finds him. Scott’s spent the whole night diligently _not_ staring at Stiles while he got increasingly loose-limbed and sweaty, hips rolling as he danced. This is why they go to parties, to have a good time and let go and find people to hook up with. It’s what they do, but Scott aches for Stiles in ways that Stiles can _never_ know, so when Theo smirks at him across the room, Scott goes willingly, without a second thought.

Stiles hates Theo. More than anything, Stiles _hates_ Theo. Scott doesn’t really get it, because Theo is just Theo. Scott’s pretty sure it’s because Theo has priorities that Stiles hates. Namely, sleeping with whoever he wants to without having any strings attached. 

It works for Scott. Scott isn’t looking for romance, he’s not expecting to fall in love. He’s already in love, and while it sucks, he wouldn’t trade the love he feels for Stiles for anything else, or _anyone_ else. Scott works his ass off, has a 3.8 GPA, hasn’t ever gotten in trouble. He does his homework, doesn’t party too hard, and makes an effort to be nice to the people around him. 

If he counters that with having rough sex in a stranger’s bathroom at a party any time Theo Raeken is single, then it’s his business. 

Stiles thinks he deserves better, but he doesn’t know that _he_ is what’s better for Scott, so Scott lets him harp on it. Or, he did, they don’t exactly talk about it anymore. It’s a fact of life that if Theo and Scott are at the same party and Theo’s alone, they will find some surface to fuck against. 

Today, it’s the bathroom counter. Theo doesn’t say anything, just pushes him in with a smirk, and Scott goes willingly, limbs loose from alcohol, body vibrating in anticipation. The best thing about Theo is that he’s a good fuck. Good hands, a great tongue, always just as eager as Scott is to get to it. 

The first kiss is a soft hello before they’re diving in, teeth biting into lips, hands peeling away each other’s shirts. It doesn’t take long for Theo to sink to his knees, nuzzling at Scott’s dick, taking him in his mouth. It’s fast, sloppy, just right. As much as Scott sometimes wants to savor the moment -- especially the way Theo looks when he has Scott’s dick in mouth, pink lips stretched wide, lashes thick and black and fluttering as he makes eye contact with Scott -- he wants to come even more, and Theo knows to make it hard and relentless, until Scott’s tugging on his hair and spilling into his mouth. 

Theo smiles and comes up, tongue chasing Scott’s taste into Scott’s mouth. It’s gross, but Scott loves it, loves the way Theo’s hand fists in his hair and pulls his head back, bares his throat for his teeth. He’s going to have bruises, he knows, but he welcomes them, likes to press against them the next day and _feel it_. 

Scott gets his hand around Theo’s dick, lets him fuck into the tight circle of his fist until he comes, breath ragged against Scott’s throat. They kiss afterwards, softly, breathing into each other. Theo pulls away with a grin, just a touch of wildness in it that has Scott’s heart tripping up in his chest.

“Hey,” Theo says, voice silky. “Missed you.”

It’s been a couple of months since they fucked. Theo’s been occupied. Usually, he drifts in and out of Scott’s life. When he’s single, they hook up. There’s no expectations of any kind. They’ll screw around for a few weeks, and then Theo will find a distraction. It’s cyclical, reliable. 

“Not too much, I hope,” Scott says, affectionately. Their noses bump as they kiss again, only parting when someone bangs on the door and demands to pee. 

When they stumble out, there’s jizz on the bottom of Theo’s shirt, and Scott’s hair is wrecked. Both their mouths are swollen, red. They stick close, moving through the house to grab drinks, and outside to where Stiles is talking to a group that includes some of their closer friends. Danny high fives Scott when he passes. Theo chuckles and sits on the bench next to Lydia, dragging Scott down into his lap. 

Scott looks to Stiles first, because he can’t help it. The look on Stiles’ face is blank, aggravatingly so, but Scott decides to ignore it, ignore the way his stomach sours. Theo’s under him, one of his hands on Scott’s thigh and the other under his shirt, sitting over his hip. It’s nice to be touched by someone who knows how to touch him so well, so he resolves to enjoy it; not thinking too hard about how Stiles’ voice has an irritated edge the rest of the night, the way he can’t say anything to Theo without challenging him. 

“He still hates me,” Theo says, when Stiles goes inside to dance with Malia and Kira. He doesn’t look at Scott as he passes, just lets himself be pulled away. Scott hates the way Theo automatically puts a chasm between them, hates the way they can never let it lie anytime him and Theo start having sex again. 

“He doesn’t know you,” Scott says, dismissively. That’s not the issue, they both know. Stiles knows enough about Theo to not want to get to know him any better than he does now. They’ve tried to hang out, all three of them before, and it never goes well. It’s not terrible, it’s just _awkward_.

“Do you want him to get to know me?” Theo asks, leaning back and smirking at him. Scott rolls his eyes, because he absolutely does not and Theo knows that. Stiles is his, separate from Theo, and Scott wants to keep it that way. “That’s what I thought.”

“Shut up,” Scott snaps, but there’s no heat behind it. Theo smirks again, but leans in for a kiss, tongue dipping into Scott’s mouth, warm hand skating up his back.

“You should come back with me tonight,” Theo says, in a low voice. Excitement grips Scott’s spine tight, and he agrees readily, looking forward to a night of sex and not having to _think_. Living with the person you’re in unrequited love with is difficult, especially when it’s late night and he’s tipsy. 

It’ll be better to be away, especially tonight, Scott thinks, as he watches Stiles dance through the sliding glass door. No one is going to be happy if they fight about Theo after the party.

“I’d be happy to,” Scott says, genuinely. They don’t bother waiting around, leaving right after Scott lets Stiles know where he’s going. Stiles makes a face at him, but doesn’t argue, eyes darting to Theo and then back before he shrugs dismissively. 

Theo laces their fingers together as they walk back to his apartment. It’s a warm night, but there’s a breeze that plays across Scott’s skin, cooling his overheated skin from the cramped quarters of the party. 

“Do you think he’s jealous?” Theo asks, after it’s been silent for a couple of minutes. Scott squints at him, trying to figure out whether or not he’s joking. Theo chuckles at him, shrugging. “He seems jealous, when I’m around.”

“He doesn’t approve of you,” Scott says, eyeing Theo. It’s not that Stiles is jealous, especially not in the way that Theo seems to be implying. 

“Right, just that.”

“Don’t be weird,” Scott says, sighing. This conversation is quickly heading a direction that Scott doesn’t want it to. 

“Nothing is more weird than you being in love with your best friend and not saying anything,” Theo says, shrugging. Scott’s stomach twists in on itself. It’s the first time Theo’s said it, even though Scott’s sure he’s known for awhile. Scott is pretty transparent in his affection. Everyone knows, except for Stiles because Stiles is Stiles and blissfully ignorant. 

“I’d rather not talk about it,” Scott admits. It’s not Theo’s fault, but he knows talking about it will just send his mood spiralling away from him, and he’d rather not be a pining mess when he’s going to have the best sex he’s had in months.

“Sorry, I just want you to be happy.”

Scott can’t help but laugh at that, happy and bright, amusement tearing out of him. The thing is, he can’t really tell whether or not Theo is being sincere. Theo acts differently around him than he does other people, Scott knows. 

Multiple people have come up to him, and told him about it. How Theo is largely dismissive of other people, how he’s blunt, and occasionally downright callous. That’s not what Scott sees, though. It’s not that he doesn’t think Theo is capable of acting that way, it’s just that for whatever reason, Scott gets his smiles and gentle touches and undivided attention. 

Scott definitely doesn’t mind. 

Especially not when Theo’s using his undivided attention to draw moans out of Scott, hands on him the second they get inside his apartment. He shoves Scott against the door, and kisses him roughly, hands skating under his shirt to thumb at his nipples. Scott’s knees almost buckle when Theo slots his thigh between Scott’s legs and grinds in, hands everywhere at once. 

He pulls away long enough to strip Scott of his shirt, peeling out of his own. Scott watches the way his muscles ripple under his skin intently, stuck on the cut of his abs and his defined pecs, his pink, pink nipples. There’s a barbell through the left one, teasing him. 

“That’s new,” Scott says, reaching up to trace it with his thumb. Theo hisses, eyes fluttering shut. Scott smirks and does it again, harder this time. Theo groans, head tipping back, and Scott doesn’t hesitate in stepping forward and putting his teeth to Theo’s throat, sucking a mark into his skin. 

“You’re going to kill me,” Theo says, as Scott walks them backwards, feeling inspired. He all but shoves Theo through his bedroom door, unbuttoning his pants as he goes. Theo doesn’t hesitate in stripping down, cock hard and red when it springs free of his briefs. He goes to his top dresser drawer and grabs lube and a handful of condoms, depositing them on his bed.

“You’re clean?” Scott asks. Theo rolls his eyes, fisting his cock. Scott’s eyes are drawn to the wetness at his slit, the way his cock head goes shiny when his hand slides down. Scott’s mouth is watering.

“Every month like clockwork,” Theo says. “All clean. Does that mean you’re going to go down on me?”

“If you’re good,” Scott promises, coming closer. Their skin slides together sweetly when Scott moves to kiss him, lighting up Scott’s nerves. It’s easy to lose himself in the way that they come together. It’s expert touches. Theo knows that Scott loves it when he cups Scott’s ass and teases Scott from behind, fingers nudging against him. Scott knows Theo loves attention on his nipples and neck before anything, loves when Scott puts his mouth to good use. 

There’s no hesitation in their movements, going from one thing to the next smoothly. Kissing until Scott bends Theo over and buries his tongue in him until Theo is humping the bed, all of his careful control dissolving under Scott’s lips and tongue.

Only when Theo is a writhing mess, does Scott stop and finger him open, hiking his hips up and fucking into him smoothly. Theo’s hands scramble at the sheets as Scott fucks him relentlessly, until Theo’s gasping wetly and coming all over the sheets. 

Smug, Scott comes too, right inside of Theo, adding to the mess of lube when he pulls out. They lie side-by-side-catching their breath. When Theo looks at him, he’s pink-cheeked, sweat on his skin, eyes heavy lidded, gazing at Scott with satisfaction. 

“I knew that was a good idea,” Theo says, with a sigh. 

“We’re always a good idea,” Scott agrees with a laugh, kissing Theo, pulling him in again. 

 

 

Scott stays the night, too worn out to bother going home. When he wakes up in the morning, they shower together, hands slipping all over each other. Theo eats him out enthusiastically, leaving hickies on the insides of his thighs, marking him up even more. Something tells Scott he’s going to regret the marks on his neck when he goes home, but he can’t bring himself to care when Theo drags his teeth over the bruises, making them sting.

“Feeling possessive?” Scott teases, when they tumble out of the shower. Even in the fogged over mirror, Scott can see the bruises on his throat, legs, and over his hips. Theo comes behind him and nuzzles into his shoulder, biting him.

“Maybe,” he says. He kisses Scott’s neck and teases his nipple with his fingers, watching Scott shudder in the mirror, makes Scott watch as he jerks him off when he gets hard again. By the time Scott is shaking, ready to come, Theo’s hard, grinding against his ass. 

“Can I fuck you?” Theo asks, voice low and hot in Scott’s ear. Scott resists the urge to buck back against him, thrusting into the tight circle of Theo’s fist instead.

“I don't think we have time for that,” Scott says, with a laugh. That makes Theo whine, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he jerks off against Scott’s back. When he comes, it splashes all over Scott’s ass and thighs, dripping. Scott’s come hits the mirror, in retaliation. 

“Fuck,” Theo laughs, into the skin of Scott’s back, and Scott can’t help but giggle, panting. 

It’s good, because it’s always good, but Scott leaves eventually, because he always leaves. This time, he doesn’t really want to, because he knows that eventually he’s going to have to see Stiles’ disappointed face. The thought makes his stomach go sour and uncomfortable, but he tries not to care. 

Stiles doesn’t look up from his game when Scott slips in, so Scott takes the opportunity to take another shower, smoothing his hair down, washing the scent of Theo and Theo’s Axe body wash off of his skin. 

When he comes out, Stiles has moved onto another video game, and Scott’s phone is blinking at him with a text message.

_**Theo:** I had a good time. We need to fuck more often. _

Scott smiles at the phone, feeling warm and affectionate. The worse part about Theo is that Scott absolutely enjoys his company. He loves when they spend time together, especially when they fuck, but --

Scott’s eyes flicker up and watch Stiles play Assassin’s Creed. His gaze lingers over the dip of Stiles’ nose, the way his eyelashes are highlighted by the screen, eyes wide and unblinking. There’s always a careful stillness about him when he’s concentrating, shoulders hunched, leaning forward the smallest bit, like it’ll help his performance. 

Stiles must feel him staring, because he pauses and looks at Scott, cocking an eyebrow curiously. Scott blinks at him, shrugs. It’s not like he can _tell_ Stiles that he’s just admiring his beauty, so he brushes it off, waits until Stiles goes back to his game to text Theo back. 

_**Scott:** I’m always available, dude._

_**Theo:**_ _That’s what I like to hear ;)_

“Why do you keep doing this, Scotty?” Stiles asks, after a few hours of torturous silence. Stiles put in a movie almost immediately after Scott sat down, one of Scott’s favorites, but it’s been awkward, and it’s killing Scott. The tension makes him regret letting Theo give him a hickey so high up on his neck. Whenever Stiles looks at him, his eyes zero in on the mark. It’s a beacon, a reminder that Scott got laid. 

“Doing what?” Scott asks, feigning innocence. There’s a lot of things he’s doing that he could _stop_ doing, like procrastinating his Bio essay or --

“Fucking Theo,” there it is.

“It’s fun,” Scott says, shrugging. The knots in his stomach are making him uncomfortable, skin prickling with nervousness, like he’s suffocating from it. Scott doesn’t let it show on his face, but it’s lurking under the surface.

“It’s _fun_ ,” Stiles says, narrowing his eyes. 

“Yes, fun,” his voice is sharp, but he can’t help getting defensive at how confrontation Stiles gets about Theo. It’s something like Scott enjoys. He’s never been _hurt_ by Theo; Theo hasn’t ever done wrong by him. They’re just not _dating_ , and --

“You deserve better than that,” Stiles says, for the thousandth time. That’s the point that he likes to drive home. Like Scott absolutely has to be wined and dined in order to have sex. It’s not like him and Theo don’t do things together. They date, or the closest thing to dating two people who have no desire to be romantically involved can do. 

They go out, go to parties together, hang off each other in clubs. They make post-sex late night food runs, watch movies together tangled up on Theo’s couch. Sometimes Scott _wishes_ he wanted to be with Theo romantically, because they’re already so close to being there. There are moments when they look at each other, and Scott thinks _yes_. It’s a thought that he entertains until the thought of Stiles slips through the cracks, and ruins everything all over again.

That sounds too bitter to voice out loud, too demanding. Scott is perfectly fine with his relationship with Stiles, he can’t imagine _not_ being Stiles’ best friend. He just loves him in _every sense_ , wholly and completely and unrequitedly. Only at times like these does it bother him that he hasn’t found anyone that means as much to him as Stiles does. He always wonders when he lost his heart so completely. 

“There’s not exactly a line of people waiting to fuck me,” Scott says. It comes out sharper than he’d like, bitter. Stiles blinks at him slowly, face going blank and angry. 

“If you say so,” Stiles says, words snapping back at Scott like Scott said something unforgivable, instead of the _truth_. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Scott says, shaking his head, trying to get rid of the heavy feeling that’s descended on them. Stiles is watching him, eyes steady, and Scott doesn’t know what that’s supposed to mean. He wants to get up, and walk away from the conversation, but he feels rooted to the spot in obligation. 

“It _does_ ,” Stiles says, face screwing up.

“It’s not like we’re dating,” Scott says, with a resigned sigh. It doesn’t mean anything, it’s not _supposed_ to mean anything. It’s supposed to be fun, without any pressure. Conversations like this, and Theo bringing up Stiles accomplish the opposite of fun. Apparently, they’re talking about it, though. 

“Do you _want_ to be?” Stiles asks, very seriously. “I mean, he’s Theo. He’s got someone new every fucking week, you know? I just don’t want you getting hurt --”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Scott exhales, breathing slowly. “You think I’m that into him? That I’m letting him string me along?” All of Stiles’ protests have been, what? A misguided attempt at keeping Scott from getting his heart broken?

“What _are_ you doing, then?” Stiles asks, voice still edgy and defensive. 

“Having fun,” Scott says, again. “It’s not serious, I’m not interested in him like that.”

“You’re never interested in anyone like that, Scott.”

“Yeah, I _am_ , but they’re not --” Scott cuts himself off, swallows back the words, but Stiles can tell, eyebrows lifting. Scott’s heart pounds in his chest, swallowing down unspoken words: _they’re not interested_.

“You like someone?” Stiles asks, eyebrows crumbling in concern, hurt by the fact that Scott didn’t tell him. It makes perfect sense, because Scott tells him everything. He told him about the cute guy in his Anthro class that he had a crush on, the barista at starbucks with the freckles. He tells Stiles everything, and now he’s harboring a secret. It’s a secret he’s had for a long time, that Stiles absolutely can’t know about. 

They stare at each other, until Scott shrugs, hoping Stiles will let it go. 

“Who?” Stiles asks, eyes still on Scott, boring into him. Scott wiggles uncomfortably, knowing he’s not going to escape this conversation unscathed. It’s Stiles, and Stiles is stubborn when he wants to be.

They keep staring at each other. 

“I --” Scott is saved by his phone ringing. “It’s my mom.” 

Relief spreads through his body so quickly he’s nearly dizzy with it, picking up the phone and escaping to his bedroom. It’s late enough that Scott can talk to his mom for an hour, then crash out, and Stiles won’t be suspicious. Well, he’ll probably be suspicious anyway, but he won’t have a solid reason to be. 

When they hang up, Scott stares at the ceiling for a long time, listening to his heart pounding in his chest. Stiles doesn’t come by the room to see if he’s done on the phone, or text him about watching another movie, so Scott figures he’s safe from that conversation for at least a day. 

_**Scott:** Breakfast tomorrow?_

_**Theo:** Brunch. I’m at a party._

_**Scott:** No invite?_

_**Theo:** Two nights in a row? Be careful, Scotty, you’ll make a boy feel special._

_**Scott:** Don’t call me Scotty._

_**Scott:** But I aim to please ;) Food tomorrow in the late AM it is. _

_**Theo:** It’ll be my pleasure, babe ;)_

Scott lets himself feel the flutter of butterflies in his stomach, and wishes he could fall in love with Theo for the thousandth time. Theo is far from perfect, but Scott knows that he could be exactly the person Scott needs to take care of him, to care _about him_ in the way that Scott craves. 

Not that Stiles doesn’t care, because Stiles cares a lot. Stiles cares so much that it makes Scott _ache_. They have all the ingredients for a relationship. The mutual knowledge of each other’s preferences, the easy touches, the way that they mesh so well; they instantly clicked all those years ago, inseparable ever since. Only, Stiles isn’t in love with Scott, and that’s the most important part of a romantic relationship. 

Scott sighs, drowning in his own misery for awhile before he jerks off with his fingers pressed to the hickies on his thighs, thinking about the way Theo moans Scott’s name when he comes. 

 

 

Scott wakes up to Stiles pounding on the door, his phone alerting him of half a dozen missed calls. He stumbles out of bed, not bothering with clothes, pulling open his door to reveal a pissy looking Stiles, Theo hovering over his shoulder. Theo gives him an appreciative once-over, but it’s lost in the way Stiles glares at him. 

“Yo, Scotty, you’re missing breakfast,” Stiles says, a snap to his voice that Scott doesn’t appreciate this early in the morning. He yawns, stretches, rubbing his eyes before he decides to respond. 

“We agreed on brunch,” Scott says, eyeing Theo. All he gets in response is a smirk and a shrug. Scott can’t fault him for that, so he just rolls his eyes affectionately and moves back into his bedroom, closing the door to pull on clothes. 

He feels hyper-aware of the fact that they’re in the same room, probably glaring at each other. There was a time where Scott desperately wanted them to get along, but he knows, now, after many terrible attempts, that it’s not going to happen. Now, he’s just nervous that they’re in the same room while he’s getting ready.

“Breakfast, huh?” he hears Stiles ask. Scott grabs up the closest shirt and pulls it on, leaning towards the door so that he can hear better. Eavesdropping is apparently a thing that he does, now.

“He texted me and asked me out last night,” Theo says. 

“Sounds like a date.”

“You know it’s not.”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” Stiles asks, hard edge in his voice. Scott roots around for jeans, pulling them on quickly, just in case he needs to diffuse the situation. He has one sock in his hand when Theo answers. 

“You know I’m not the person he wants to be out with,” he says, and Scott’s stomach drops to his toes, right off the edge of a cliff. Apparently, he’s a masochist, because instead of storming out and demanding this line of discussion come to an end, Scott inches closer to the door, ears straining.

“Actually, I don’t,” Stiles snaps, sounding bitter about it. That’s fair, considering Stiles thinks that Scott is just hiding information from him without justification. 

“You can’t tell me you’re that dense,” Theo says, sounding far more condescending than Scott has ever heard him be before. The scoff that comes out of his throat after the statement is downright _disgusted_. The sound leaves a heavy feeling in Scott’s veins; he can feel everything shifting slowly, waiting to be tipped over the edge. 

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fact that your best friend is madly in love with you,” Theo hisses, voice dropping low. For some reason, Scott doesn’t think it’s for his benefit. It’s almost like Theo’s putting on a show for Stiles, to be _just convincing_ enough. “Apparently, you’re too oblivious to see that.”

“What --”

“God, the way he looks at you,” Theo says, but his voice loses its edge quickly, tone turning wistful. Scott doesn’t want to think about the way _that_ makes his chest ache with regret. “I would kill to have him look at me like he looks at you. Fuck, I’d kill for _half_ of that.”

Then, silence. Scott’s heart pounds heavy behind his ribs as he grabs his stuff and shoves his feet into his shoes. He has to take a deep breath before he goes out the door, schooling his face into a neutral expression. 

When he comes out, Stiles is aggressively swiping at his phone while Theo leans against the counter looking bored. Scott grabs Theo’s hand, mostly to steady himself, but also to pull him along so they can leave quickly.

“I’ll be back,” Scott says, eyes on Stiles. It takes a few seconds for Stiles to look at him back, but Scott doesn’t mind the wait. The look he gets is something he rarely has experience with. It’s that blank-and-angry look, the one Scott never knows what to do with. 

“Okay,” Stiles says, shrugging dismissively. Briefly, his eyes flicker to Theo, then they’re back on his phone like nothing happened.

When they get down to Theo’s car, Scott slumps into the front seat, leg rattling anxiously. He hates this. He’s never like this, never so unsure. He doesn’t know what happened between the last time him and Theo were fucking regularly, and this time, but this time is different. It’s more intense, more significant. 

“Sorry,” Theo says, after he pulls away from the apartment complex. Scott laughs, just a little.

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not.”

“That was unfair,” Scott tells him, because he has to, he can’t just leave it. If Scott was a more abrasive person, he’d yell at Theo, but Scott doesn’t argue with people who aren’t Stiles. He doesn’t have the energy to. 

“I know,” Theo says, with a shrug. It’s so unapologetic, Scott feels like he can’t fault him for saying anything. If anyone’s had to deal with Scott’s unrequited mess of feelings, it’s Theo. They might not have had any conversations about it, besides the other night walking home from the party, but that’s _the reason_ that they’re not dating.

“Did you mean what you said?” Scott asks, masochistic tendencies popping up again.

“Do you actually want to know the answer to that question?” Theo asks. Sometimes, Scott is genuinely surprised by how well Theo reads him. He’s almost as good as Stiles is.

“Yes.”

“Yes, I meant it,” Theo says. He looks at Scott for a few seconds before his eyes slide back to the road. It might be easier this way, not having to make eye contact, just letting Theo talk. “I didn’t fully realize it until the other night, but I wasn’t lying when I said I missed you.”

“I wasn’t lying either, but it’s different.”

“I know. Because of Stiles,” Theo says, waving it off with a sweeping gesture of his hand. “I’ve known that for a long time, because _I’m_ not an idiot about feelings --”

“Theo.”

“Sorry, I just. You’re a great guy. You’re smart and handsome and funny when everyone least expects it. You’re generous, and basically the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I absolutely can’t have you.”

“I’m sorry,” Scott says, voice a horrified whisper. His throat is sticky with emotion; he doesn’t know whether he wants to scream or cry or both, overwhelmed by it.

“I made my peace with it a long time ago,” Theo says, with an easy smile that loosens the knot forming in Scott’s chest. “I’ll take what I can get.”

“That’s a _horrible_ philosophy to have,” Scott says, but it helps soothe over his fried nerves. Theo definitely didn’t help when he declared Scott’s undying love for Stiles without consulting Scott about it first, but a deep part of Scott is thankful for it. Theo probably knew he would be, too, which is the worst part.

They skip breakfast and go straight to Theo’s. Scott slams him into the wall just inside his door, and jerks him off hard and rough as payback. Theo loves it, squirming and moaning. All of his careful control melts away instantly, until he’s shaking, pink skin and mewling demands to come. Scott tries not to think about what it means that Theo will give him everything so easily, he already knows. 

After he makes Theo come, he’s dragging to the bedroom, stripping and fingered open until Theo is hard again. They fuck so hard that the headboard relentlessly bangs into the wall, but neither of them bother to stop it, or quiet down. 

Theo lays new marks over the ones that are a couple of days old, breaks Scott’s skin open with blunt nails. He thrusts in deep, not letting Scott get a chance to catch his breath, fucks all of the thoughts out of Scott’s head until he’s whining with overstimulation, and then he fucks Scott more.

It’s exactly what Scott needs. 

 

 

The next week is complete and utter torture. Scott was expecting it, especially when he stumbled home from Theo’s at an indecent hour and discovered Stiles wasn’t home. There wasn’t anyone at the moment that he was hooking up with on a regular basis, so he probably went to a party or a friend’s house, somewhere just not _home_. With Scott. Who’s in love with him. 

For the most part, Stiles avoids him in that subtle way of his. They don’t end up being around each other often; Stiles develops an interest in studying at the library when Scott is home or goes out with friends that Scott hasn't gotten to know. It hurts, but Scott probably deserves it. Finding out your best friend is in love with you is a lot to process, and Stiles isn’t the best at processing. 

So, Scott gives him space, knowing Stiles needs it. It’s better to let Stiles work through it on his own, wait until he approaches Scott to have a conversation. It doesn’t stop Scott from being wracked with nerves about the whole thing. 

They’re cordial when they see each other, and it’s practically normal, besides the fact that they only see each other in passing. Scott can feel the difference, though. It’s like shards of glass under his skin, prickling him everytime he moves. There’s so many times when he opens his mouth to say something, just to slam it shut again, unsure of _what_ to say. He just has to wait it out, he knows.

In the meantime, Theo keeps tempting him. Scott initially thought that what he said to Stiles and the conversation they had in the car meant they were done hooking up, but Theo keeps inviting him out and keeps taking him home. Scott falls into bed with him, gratefully, appreciative of the distraction.

“What are you going to do?” Theo asks, tracing patterns on Scott’s shoulder. They’re curled into bed together, clothes strewn all over the floor. Scott is tipsy, carefully constructed emotional guard collapsed from the alcohol and the good sex and the fact that he’s with _Theo_. 

“Stiles?” Scott asks, word feeling heavy on his tongue. A wave of bitter sadness washes over him. 

“Yeah. I mean, when you guys finally have your talk.”

“I don’t know,” Scott admits, feeling the truth of it in his very bones. There’s no way to come out of this unscathed. Even if they ignore it completely, and Stiles never confronts Scott about what Theo said. There’s still a yawning chasms between them, that they’ll need to figure out how to mend. 

“Hey, at least you always have me, right?” Theo says, grinning down at him in that unbearably charming way of his. Scott snorts at him, feeling amused despite himself.

“Until you move on to your next conquest.”

“Hey,” Theo says, squeezing his shoulder. Scott looks back up at him, suddenly lost in the serious look on his face. “You know that’s not what this is to me, right? You’re not just another hookup.”

“I know, I --” Scott falters, feeling that familiar guilt wormings its way into his veins again. He wishes that he could be what Theo needed, because Scott knows that they would be happy and they would have fun, but -- “I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t know why he keeps coming back, why he agrees to keep hanging out with Theo even though they have such a contrast of feelings. 

“Stop apologizing,” Theo says, rolling his eyes. He presses his lips to Scott’s forehead. It makes Scott ache all over. “I knew what I was getting back into when I found you at the party.”

What Scott doesn’t do is ask what that means, or how long Theo has felt this way, instead he doesn’t say anything, leans up to press a kiss to Theo’s mouth, guides Theo into rougher kisses. He pins Theo down, jerks off all over his chest before getting his mouth on Theo’s dick.

Stiles especially avoids Scott after he comes back from Theo’s. Scott has no idea what that means, and doesn’t want to entertain any of the thoughts that pop into his mind. There have been too many times that Scott got his hopes up when it came to Stiles. 

When Stiles came out, Scott thought _now’s my chance_ , but Stiles started dating, never settled. Scott could never be interested in a short-term anything with Stiles, so he didn’t say anything. They were always close, and Scott used to think they got even closer after Stiles came out. Movie nights often ended with cuddling close. They stuck together at parties, danced together. 

There was one night, right before he met Theo, when they ended up making out in Lydia’s bathroom, but it was tentative and fumbling and Scott doesn’t think Stiles remembers because he never brought it up. When Stiles started hooking up with people more often and Scott met Theo, things never progressed between them. 

Not that Scott ever expected to get very far, but he was hopeful anyway. When they slammed on the brakes, Scott tried to let it go, he did. He’s tried to move on so many times, but they’re best friends; Scott probably needs a gallon of tequila, and a steady rebound to get over him. 

 

 

“We should talk,” Stiles says when Scott stumbles through the door around midnight. He went to a party without Theo or Stiles, just to be alone with people who didn’t make him feel indecisive and _terrible_ about his romantic decisions. Lydia goaded him into making out with Allison, but they didn’t hook up, though Scott doesn’t think she would have been opposed; Scott just doesn’t have the energy to drag another person into his complicated love life, even someone as good of a friend as Allison.

Of course, that led to them _talking_ about it, and Scott getting dramatic about both Stiles and Theo at her, while she fed him shots and petted his hair. He appreciated the opportunity to vent, but he needs to remember to send her flowers for putting up with him.

Stiles’ words take a minute to sink in, but when they do, that melodramatic sense of dread creeps up on Scott again. 

“That’s a terrible thing to greet me with,” Scott says, truthfully. Stiles looks stressed, skin around his eyes tight. Sadness sweeps over Scott in a tidal wave. He’s not drunk enough for this.

“I know, I just,” Stiles sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and exhales, cheeks red. “I’ve been waiting for you to come home.”

“Sorry, I needed a break,” from the pressure of not knowing what the hell is going on between the two of them. Stiles bites his lip and looks guilty for a minute, until his expression hardens again. Scott doesn’t want to know what it means that Stiles is erecting all these walls between them.

“So, talking,” Scott says. “What are we talking about?”

“Did you hear what Theo said to me before you guys left last week? Or did he tell you?”

“No,” Scott says, automatically, heart pounding in his ears. Stiles lifts a dubious eyebrow at him. “Maybe.”

“Just,” Stiles says, chewing at his bottom lip. Scott absolutely does not get stuck on the way that his teeth drag over the skin, making it more and more red with each passing. “We need to be honest with each other, okay. That’s the best way we’re going to have this conversation.”

Scott almost laughs at him, because Stiles is a pathological liar. He lies about the little things, even when he doesn’t have to. It’s constantly a battle to figure out what Stiles is purposefully omitting when they talk. _Honesty_ , true honesty from Stiles is a rare thing. Most of the time, Scott gets the privilege of being the only person Stiles never lies to, but things lately have been so awkward and forced between them, he doesn’t know if that’s true anymore.

“Okay,” Scott says, dipping his head in agreement anyway. He wants to figure this out once and for all, they don’t have time to argue about the semantics of _having_ the discussion. “Total honesty.”

“Was it true?”

“Which part?” Scott asks, evasively. He didn’t think Stiles would come right out and say it, but Stiles has had all week to decide how he wanted to approach the whole thing, while Scott has been doing his best to forget about it. 

Usually Stiles avoids things until he absolutely can’t anymore, so Scott hasn’t been surprised, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt every time they were in the apartment and didn’t interact; both of them leaving to go out without the other. They haven’t been _them_ , and that’s the worst part about the whole thing. 

“He said you love me.”

“You know I love you,” Scott says, dodging the topic with a watery smile. He toes off his shoes, and goes to the kitchen, grabbing a water bottle from fridge. Hydrating totally helps un-tipsy a person, right? He downs the water bottle in one go. Stiles patiently waits for him to finish. 

“You know what I mean,” Stiles says, with a frustrated noise. “He said you were in love with me. Was he telling the truth?”

“I --” Scott swallows, meeting Stiles’ eyes. The look he’s giving Scott is so defensive, like he’s expecting a physical blow. Scott doesn’t _get it_ , but he doesn’t know what to do besides tell the truth. “Yeah.”

Stiles blinks at him rapidly while Scott shifts uncomfortably, waiting for him to say something in response. His mouth drops open, throat working, but he doesn’t talk for what feels like an eternity.

“Wh - What? For how long?”

Scott snorts, fumbling with his brain, trying to come up with a proper timeline. He never really thought about it in depth before. It hasn’t always been like this, Scott knows, but at one point he looked at Stiles, and knew that he had crossed over that line without even realizing it. It didn’t take long to come to terms with the feeling, it was a fact of life.

Now, Stiles wants to know why and how and for how long, and Scott doesn’t know what to tell him, not really. Scott shrugs, hates the look of disappointment that flashes across Stiles face. 

“I don’t know,” Scott says. “A long time.”

“Before we came here?” Stiles asks. 

“Yeah, before college,” Scott admits. There’s a hard lump in his throat, but Scott refuses to break eye contact with Stiles. This is serious, Scott is serious. “Before high school.”

“ _What_?” Stiles demands, voice going tight.

“Middle school, probably,” Scott says, with a shrug, trying not to focus on how fast his heart is racing. It’s just Stiles, it’s his best friend, Stiles can’t _hate him_. 

“Why didn’t you _tell me_?” Stiles demands, hands flinging out wildly. He looks frazzled, unsure. Scott feels guilty for no reason that he can identify. 

“I wanted to,” Scott admits, stepping closer. “I was scared.”

“You were _scared_? Of me?”

“Of your reaction,” Scott says, gesturing to Stiles’ whole, _everything_. The way his hands are clenched, body tense, the way he’s looking at Scott so disbelievingly. “I don’t want to fuck this up, I never have.”

“You could have told me. I wouldn’t have -- I’m not going to hate you for that. Not when --”

“You didn’t even come out until senior year,” Scott says, steamrolling over Stiles. It’s not fair for Stiles to act like it’s easy when he spent so much time _denying_ that he was bisexual in the first place. All of the casual ‘no homo’ when Scott decided to come out in middle school. Scott doesn’t hold it against him, they were so young and so influenced by their peers, but Stiles can’t possibly think Scott would want to confess his feelings in that kind of situation. It took another 5 years for Stiles even decided to tell Scott that he, too, jerked off to gay porn, and had been for awhile. “I was really young, and I was scared of your reaction.”

“Scott --”

“Nothing has to change,” Scott says, quickly, taking a step forward. He feels desperate to end this, desperate to resolve it. If they can get by without Scott having to talk too in depth about his feelings, Scott will feel so much better about himself. “I didn’t tell you because that’s _fine_. I’m okay with just being friends, because I need you in my life.”

“What if I want things to change?” Stiles asks, sharply, challenging. Scott draws back again, faltering. Maybe Stiles really is that upset, maybe he’s letting it come between them so radically. Scott’s stomach sours, eyes darting down to the floor. 

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Scott says, honestly. Stiles scoffs at him, but it sounds more upset than condescending. 

“You _wouldn’t_ ,” Stiles says. Scott’s head snaps up so fast, he gets light headed. Stiles can’t possibly mean -- “You honestly don’t think I feel the same way about you? After everything?”

“Why would I come to that conclusion?” Scott demands, feeling hot and embarrassed and unable to stop the feeling of hope from blossoming in his chest. 

“After I came out, I, I mean, we got really close. I thought --”

“We’ve always been close, Stiles,” Scott says, searching his brain for a hint of _anything_ , besides drunken make out sessions, of course. There’s nothing that he can think of. 

“I was _way more_ cuddly when I came out,” Stiles says. “We fell asleep on the couch together almost every weekend! We made out in the bathroom at Lydia's!”

“I thought it was because you were finally comfortable with me being bi,” Scott says. All of his emotions are tangled up, it’s hard to tell whether he’s sad or frustrated or _anything_. “You were really hands off in high school. And we were drunk when we made out, Stiles, how am I supposed to know you remembered, much less that it meant anything to you?”

Not that Scott blames him, for any of it. There were a few times he got shit for being out. The amount of rumors spread about him, and who he was and wasn’t dating, was ridiculous. Stiles got caught up in that multiple times, just because they were best friends. Scott’s never blamed him for it, it’s the way that they were socialized, to distance themselves from stigma, but it happened. At the time, it hurt, but he’s moved on, _they’ve_ moved on. 

“What? You could have said something, too! I thought you were upset! And in high school, I just,” Stiles licks his mouth, eyebrows crumpling in confusion, or calculation, taking a minute. Scott can practically see the wheels turning in his head, trying to figure out what to say. “I didn’t know how to feel about everything, I was trying to figure out --”

He stops, frustrated, fidgeting in place. Scott waits patiently, not sure of what to say, or where Stiles is going with this conversation. There’s hope burning hot in his chest, but he doesn’t want to interrupt with an assumption, or influence the way the conversation might go, so he stays quiet. 

“You came out, and I didn’t know if I was feeling this way because I had the same feelings, or if I just wanted to make sure we stuck together. I didn’t want you to go where I couldn’t follow.”

“There’s a difference between, like, picking different colleges and wanting to make out with dudes.”

“I _know_ ,” Stiles says, with a slight smile, but he quickly looks frustrated again. “That was the problem, and you --”

Stiles stops and inhales deeply; there’s a red tint to his cheeks that Scott didn’t notice, all blotchy and inconsistent. Scott wonders how hard his heart is pounding, if he could feel it under his thumb if he pressed against Stiles’ neck. 

“You’ve always been that person for me,” Stiles says. Scott watches in fascination as his adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. He’s almost disconnected from Stiles’ words, on the outside looking in, not knowing what to say. “I’ve always -- Well, for a long time, I mean, I’ve wanted _more_ , but I didn’t know if that meant I belonged to this whole _identity_.”

“I don’t think it’s that selective,” Scott says, unable to help his small smile at Stiles’ words. Stiles thought he was, what, _Scott_ -sexual or something? Straight with a Scott exception? 

“It’s not,” Stiles says, with a grin that’s looser around the edges that it has been in days. “It includes other dude-identifying people as well, but I -- I mean, wanting you never went away, you know?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Scott asks, voice barely above a whisper. He can hardly hear it over how hard his heart is pounding, but Stiles hears it, shoulders jumping in a shrug, looking nervous again.

“I was scared,” Stiles says, licking his lips, repeating Scott’s words. “Of your reaction. I didn’t want, I _don’t_ want to ruin this.”

Scott laughs, just a little, because it’s _ironic_. If he’s using the word right. They both didn’t tell each other for the same reason, oblivious to each other’s feelings. Scott was so resentful that Stiles couldn’t see _him_ , right in front of his face, but Stiles has probably felt the same way, this entire time.

Especially with Theo, the same way Scott felt about Malia and Danny and whoever else Stiles had fall into bed with (and in love with, in Malia’s case). It was just mutual obliviousness on both their parts. 

“We’re idiots,” Scott says, fondly, stomach bubbling with tentative happiness. The way Stiles looks at him makes his veins tighten, a soft look and a smile, Scott feels his knees go watery. 

“We can fix it, though, can’t we?” Stiles asks, looking at Scott with wide eyes, so sincere. 

“Of course,” Scott says, resisting the urge to run into Stiles’ arms, but Stiles beats him to it, striding forward and grabbing his arms. The touch grounds Scott, shuts up the buzz of thoughts in his head, doubts and hopes that have been raging since they started talking. 

Everything is blissfully quiet, all of Scott focusing on the feel of Stiles’ skin against his, the warmth of his touch. Scott sighs without meaning to, relief and anticipation. Stiles smiles at him one more time, blinking slowly and moving in.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, lips practically against Scott’s. Scott doesn’t bother with an affirmation, just leans forward. 

As far as kisses go, it’s kind of terrible. Stiles presses forward too hard, so Scott’s face gets smushed, nose squished flat. Their teeth glance off each other and it’s a little too dry at first, but Scott tilts his head and Stiles licks over their mouths, and it’s so good anyway. It feels just right, Scott wants to sink into Stiles, become a _part_ of him. Their hands scramble at one another, pulling each other in, and Scott knows he’s never letting go.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumble with me!](queerlyalex.tumblr.com)


End file.
